The Parent
by Erin Kaye Hashet
Summary: Mising Ryan and Sandy scene from The Best Chrismukkah Ever. Ryan wonders if he could ever hurt someone he loves.


Title: The Parent

Author: Erin Kaye Hashet

Rating: K

Feedback: EKHashet at hotmail dot com

Spoilers: Missing scene from "The Best Chrismukkah Ever"

Archive: Anywhere, just let me know.

Summary: Missing Ryan and Sandy scene from The Best Chrismukkah Ever. Ryan finds himself wondering if he could ever hurt someone he loves.

Disclaimer: Characters belong to Josh Schwartz and the actors who play them.

The Parent

by Erin Kaye Hashet

The selection of a movie, according to Sandy, was something of an art, and tonight, his artfulness had led him to another Stallone arm-wrestling movie, which he and Seth had been mocking and talking about the entire time. At least, Ryan thought they had. As the closing credits rolled, Ryan realized he couldn't remember a single detail of the movie's plot. Nor could he recall what, exactly, Seth and Sandy had been talking about.

In the five months he'd been living with the Cohens, Ryan had learned to tune Seth out when necessary. Not that he usually minded listening. Verbose and self-involved as he could be, Ryan appreciated that Seth asked his opinions on things. Trey never had. He'd just assumed that he knew everything and told Ryan so. It had been refreshing to realize that Seth regarded him as cool, that Seth thought Ryan had things to teach him. But even so, Seth's steady stream of conversation could get irritating, so Ryan had learned to focus only on the important parts.

But he'd always listened to Sandy, so it shocked him to realize that he hadn't been paying attention to Sandy at all during the movie. He'd been too busy wondering about Marissa at therapy, wondering if it was helping or hurting her.

And wondering the same thing about himself. He was thinking about the frightened look on Marissa's face as he'd slammed the car door over and over. He couldn't get that look out of his head. It was the visualization of a fear he'd always had himself—his proof that he might be becoming what he'd feared he would.

"Hey," said Sandy, "I think we're running low on bagels. You mind picking up some more, Seth?"

"Any requests?" Seth asked, grabbing his keys.

"I could go for a wheat," said Sandy. "Ryan?"

Ryan looked up. "Uh…anything's fine," he said quickly.

"'Kay."

As the door closed behind Seth, Sandy went over to Ryan and sat beside him on the couch. "You okay, Ryan?"

"Yeah," Ryan murmured, not looking at him.

"No offense, kid, but you don't look it. Something's on your mind. You want to share?"

Ryan let out a slow breath. He was quiet for a long time.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to," Sandy said gently. "But I'm worried about you. I know you don't quite have Seth's verbal skills, but this is about as quiet as I've ever seen you."

Ryan stayed quiet for a moment longer. He found the words he needed, but had to give himself a minute to work up the nerve to let them fall from his lips. Finally, he said it. "I scared myself yesterday."

Sandy's face didn't change. "How so?"

Ryan paused for a long time again before he continued. "Marissa was drunk last night. She was drinking alone in the bathroom." _The way my mom used to do_, he didn't add. "And she was going to drive away. She backed into a car and busted her tail light, so I got into the car and drove instead. And then…we got pulled over. For the busted tail light. While she had an open container of vodka. Which I know," he continued, still avoiding Sandy's eyes, "could've really screwed me over, and it scared me. But the cop had to leave for a call, so we got off with a warning." Ryan took a deep breath. "So then I took the bottle and threw it off to the side of the road, and I was just…so mad. I was...mad at her for everything she'd done, and mad that…that it was turning out just like every other Christmas. We had the cops, the drinking, the crying…the only thing missing was someone getting beaten up. And then I…" Ryan stopped for a second. "I just opened Marissa's door and started slamming it over and over, and she told me I was scaring her. And she just had this look on her face, like she thought I might actually hurt her. And thinking that she thought that…made me wonder if I would."

Ryan stopped, not quite believing that he'd said it out loud. Hearing his old words somehow made the fear real, and made his stomach queasy. He'd gotten into plenty of fights before, but it had always been because someone else had gone after him, or because he was defending someone else. He'd never believed himself capable of hurting someone out of frustration or fear until the night before. And he'd always considered hitting a woman to be unforgivable, the worst crime someone could commit. God knew he'd had a lot of experience with guys like that.

As if reading his mind, Sandy said, "You don't want to be like the people who ruined all your Christmases."

Ryan nodded, surprised to find tears pricking at his eyes. He looked up quickly to prevent them from falling as he remembered those people.

When he was five, he'd gotten a baseball bat for Christmas, and when he and Trey had gone outside to give it its first use, Ryan had accidentally hit the ball through a window. Furious, his father had stormed outside, grabbed the bat from Ryan, and used it to beat the crap out of both him and Trey.

The next year was their last in Fresno. His father had just gone to prison, and Dawn didn't have a job. All Ryan remembered was that he'd gotten nothing that year except socks and McDonald's Happy Meal prizes. Dawn had spent the whole day drunk and sobbing.

When he was ten, he'd spilled milk at the dinner table, and Dawn's boyfriend at the time, Andrew, who was set off by the smallest things, had taken off his belt and whipped Ryan so badly that he was still covering up his welts and bruises after New Year's Day.

When he was thirteen, he'd had to call the cops on Dawn's boyfriend Roger, who, with the broken piece of glass he was holding to Dawn's throat, Ryan feared might make good on his threats to kill.

And just last year, he'd provoked AJ to get him to stop hitting Dawn, which of course made AJ turn on Ryan.

Ryan couldn't bear the thought of being like any of those men. He'd never been able to picture himself hitting a woman or child, but his anger at Marissa the night before had been strong and in search of an outlet—who knew what form it might take in the future?

Sandy put an arm around him. "Ryan," he said, "look at me." Ryan did. "Do you remember the first thing you ever said to me?"

He remembered Sandy telling him he could do worse, but he couldn't recall what he'd said next.

"You asked me where your brother was," Sandy said. "First impressions are lasting, kid. And this one turned out to be entirely correct." He met Ryan's eyes. "I may not have known you very long," he said, "but I do know this. You're a good kid. You're a smart kid. And you do the right thing by the people you love."

Ryan flinched at the word "love." He and Marissa had never used that word with each other, and he wasn't sure if he was ready. But even so, he cared deeply about Marissa, and the thought of hurting her was more than he could bear.

"But I just wonder, sometimes…" Ryan exhaled. "If everything that happened to me will ever…" He mumbled more as the sentence went on, and couldn't finish the thought.

Sandy was quiet for a minute as he considered this. "Marissa is getting therapy," he said finally, reaching out to smooth Ryan's hair. Ryan flinched, but only a little. "I think it will be good for her. It might be good for you, too."

Ryan shrugged noncommittally. He wasn't inclined to agree with Sandy. The idea of talking to a stranger who was only there because he was paid to be there didn't appeal to him. One of the reasons he could find himself opening up to Sandy on occasion, as he was then, was because Sandy hadn't been obligated to care for him—he just had, and that made all the difference.

"You think about that," Sandy said. "But like I said, Ryan…" He gently turned Ryan's head toward him so that they were looking each other in the eye. "You are a good kid, and you always try to take care of the people you care about. And I love that about you. But you don't have to be the parent anymore." Sandy smiled, a smile not of happiness so much as understanding. "You're fifteen. Be fifteen. And I know Marissa has a lot of issues, but, kid, you can't fix them all."

"I know," Ryan mumbled.

"Just know this," said Sandy with a sincerity that captured Ryan's full attention. "I trust you to keep being who you are, Ryan."

Ryan managed a small smile but didn't say anything.

"But like I said," Sandy continued, "Marissa's getting therapy, and I think you could benefit from that, too."

Just then, the front door opened. "Anyone like the chocolate chip bagels?" Seth's voice called. "I couldn't remember if Ryan did and I needed another flavor to make it an even dozen, so someone hear better like them."

Sandy laughed. "I think I could force one down even if Ryan can't," he said.

Ryan watched Sandy as he went into the kitchen.

_You don't have to be the parent anymore_, he'd said. Considering that the parents in his life had all been drunk, abusive, or some combination of the two, "the parent" was the last thing he wanted to be.

But watching the man who'd adopted him shmear his bagel and laugh with his son made Ryan wonder if he could ever find his way to being like that. Aside from the fact that Sandy had never raised a hand to Ryan, Seth, or Kirsten, or anyone, really, Ryan never ceased to be amazed at the man's wisdom, how he always seemed to be able to make things right, or find answers to questions Ryan could barely ask.

For now, he'd be fifteen. But if this was what being the parent meant, it was a role Ryan would be glad to take.

The End.

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